


I Know It's Strange (another way to get to know you)

by speccygeekgrrl



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-05
Updated: 2010-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-09 08:00:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speccygeekgrrl/pseuds/speccygeekgrrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel's been haunted by the nightmare of losing his true love for so long, it's a shock when someone manages to get past his defenses. Chuck comes into his life with a coffee shop collision, and Daniel never expected to meet anyone like the awkwardly sweet IT guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know It's Strange (another way to get to know you)

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank-yous go to Shigogouhou, who nursemaided this whole thing into existence, and Asimaiyat and Perdiccas, who made sure it was fit for polite company. Title taken from the TV on the Radio song "Wolf Like Me." Written for the LJ community chuck_slash AU Challenge, to prompt #171: _Daniel Shaw's family has been practicing magic since before the United States was a country. So when he turns seven and performs the ritual to reveal his heart's mate by the light of the full moon, he's a little surprised (but nowhere near shocked) to find a blue-eyed, dark-haired boy staring back up at him from the scrying pool. Tragedy strikes, though, when his soulmate - Bryce Larkin - is murdered. The heart's mate ritual is never wrong, and practitioners who've found and accepted their soulmates can rarely find true happiness with another, so Daniel resigns himself to the fact that he's going to be alone in life . . . which makes it even more puzzling when Chuck Bartowski comes along, twenty years later, and refuses to take no for an answer._

Some people would call Daniel Shaw gifted. Daniel would call those people stupid.

Talented, he'll accept, but what he can do is not a gift. He hasn't considered it a gift since he was fifteen and saw his true love get murdered.

Daniel is a true dreamer. Usually that's helpful, or at least it's not tragic. Sometimes he dreams about the past. Sometimes, the future. On the night of September 27th, 1998, he dreamed about something that was happening at the very moment he was sleeping to a boy he had never met but was destined to love anyway.

The other thing about Daniel is that he's a wizard. This actually has nothing to do with the true dreaming-- well, maybe it's a little bit to do with genetics, but he would still dream true if he never did anything as simple as levitate a pencil or transform a leaf into a butterfly. Magic isn't something you're born with, it's something you learn, and the Shaw family was steeped in magic further back than James Shaw, who hopped a boat to the Jamestown colony long before anybody thought of carving a nation out of the wilderness of America. Daniel learned magic at the same time he learned how to read and write. He already knew more about the workings of the world when he started school than most kids twice his age.

Part of what he knew was practical: how to raise a wind, how to produce light from nothing, how to get his pants so clean his mother never knew he'd been out hunting frogs. Part of it was theoretical: why you shouldn't transmute living things, even frogs; why there were so many common elements between the spell for wind and the spell for light; why normal people would make up the most ridiculous stories just so they wouldn't have to admit that magic was real. And one thing he knew fell somewhere between the immediate and the abstract, a concept that was just too big for a seven year old to process fully: the identity of the person whose soul matched up to his in all the ways that mattered, the person he was meant to love for the rest of his life.

His mother tried to explain what this meant before he performed the heart's mate ritual, but destiny isn't something that simplifies very well, and love is too complex to boil down to a couple of points. All Daniel really got was that this was huge, this thing he was about to do would change his life forever-- for the better, his mother assured him-- and even though he probably wouldn't know the person whose face he saw in the scrying pool, she would be more important to him than anyone else in the world.

Daniel knelt beside the pool, whispered the words he'd so carefully rehearsed for weeks leading up to that night, and dropped a stone into the water. As the surface rippled and danced, the light of the full moon shimmered and stretched out and coalesced into a face. For a moment, Daniel thought he was seeing his own reflection, but the face in the water was paler, the hair longer, and the eyes-- the eyes were the kind of blue you only see in the highest sky at midday, not a color to be found on a moonlit night. Those eyes more than anything proved the magic to Daniel, those eyes and the name that fell from his lips: "Bryce Larkin."

His parents were surprised that he'd seen a boy, but the heart's mate ritual was never wrong, and they would never stand in the way of their son's happiness. After that night, Daniel's dreams turned to Bryce often, until he felt like he knew the other boy even without having met him-- he had a sister and a dog, he lived in Connecticut, he was excellent at kickball and tree climbing and not so good at spelling, he liked to stay up late reading under the covers with a flashlight, he wanted to be an engineer. Daniel dreamed of his past and his present and a little bit of his future for eight years, which was more than enough time to fall in love.

One warm night in late September, Daniel went to bed early and fell into a dream right away. He saw Bryce sitting at his kitchen table, working on an algebra worksheet. He saw Bryce's older sister, Sarah, all made up and pretty, rushing around getting ready to leave, and Bryce's mother, berating Sarah about her poor choice in boyfriends. This was a common enough scene, and Daniel settled in at Bryce's shoulder, looking over his homework curiously. The date at the top right corner was 9/27/98, so Daniel felt sure that he was dreaming the present-- that from his bed in Massachusetts, he knew what Bryce was doing at that moment in Connecticut.

He wished he could say something, not for the first time, when he saw a mistake on the third problem. If only he could make Bryce aware of his presence... then both boys looked up sharply when Sarah screamed by the front door. There was a sound like a balloon popping, and then she stopped screaming.

Bryce's chair fell to the floor as he shot up, rounding the corner in an instant. His mother sobbed something as she fell beside Sarah's prone body, and her good-for-nothing boyfriend leveled the gun at Bryce, jerky with surprise, and pulled the trigger twice.

Daniel couldn't do anything to help as Bryce collapsed, as his bright blue eyes went dim. He couldn't even wake up. All he could do was watch as Mrs. Larkin tackled the gunman, taking his legs out from under him, and struggled with him for control of the gun. It went off again, and her weight bore the man down. When she sat back with the gun in one hand, they both watched as blood bubbled to the man's lips.

Mrs. Larkin stood up and staggered into the kitchen. It took her three tries to dial 911. Daniel couldn't do a single goddamn thing, and he never hated his ability to dream true more than he did at that moment, because it was a useless talent if he couldn't stop the senseless murder of the most important person in his world.

He woke up before the police arrived, and all he could do was sob into his pillow at the stupidity of the world, at the cruelty of a universe that would let Bryce die before he ever had a chance to know he was loved.

That's why Daniel can't stand it when someone calls him gifted. His ability was a curse that night, and as many times as those events have replayed in his nightmares, in the same exact detail, that's as many times as he wished he never dreamed at all.

The recurrence of the nightmare is what kept him up last night, and what sends him into the coffee shop in the morning, exhausted and hating the universe on more than just general principle. He's got a full day of work in front of him and there's no spell to wake him up that's as effective as an extra-large hazelnut coffee with extra sugar. So he's tired, and maybe his reflexes are a little bit slow, and that's why he gets a chest full of iced mocha instead of sidestepping the clumsy man who turns in front of him. At least it's not hot coffee, he figures, and blinks when the guy spazzes out.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you-- I don't know how I missed you, well, I didn't miss you, I kind of got a direct hit, I am really really sorry about this--" He turns back to the counter, grabs a handful of napkins, and starts blotting the front of Daniel's shirt. It's a total loss, even with magic there's no way this stain is ever coming out of the shirt, or the tie, and his pants are only safe because they're black anyway.

"Um, could you stop? That's really not helping," Daniel says, pulling off the tie and crumpling it up in one hand. "It's okay, these things happen, just-- stop patting me, please."

"Sorry!" the man yelps, taking a step back. He looks more flustered than Daniel feels, honestly, panicked brown eyes under a mop of dark curls and his cheeks gone bright red. Daniel peels the cold, wet shirt away from his chest and makes a face. "I am _so_ sorry. Is there anything I can do--? I can buy you a new shirt?"

"No, it's okay, it was an accident," Daniel says, "People at work will laugh when I tell them why I'm late, I won't get in trouble. Most likely," he amends. The guy looks even more guilty.

"Seriously, please, let me do something to make it up to you. Look, here's my card, just-- send me an email or something, at the very least." Daniel accepts the card, and a few more fervent apologies, before he manages to escape the coffee shop. He takes off his shirt outside of his car and tosses it in the nearest trash bin, and drives home in his stained and damp undershirt.

He's only fifteen minutes late to work, and the worst part about it is he's stuck with the crappy office coffee instead of something actually palatable. He sleepwalks his way through a meeting and two conference calls and takes a nap at his desk instead of going for lunch.

"Uh, Mr. Shaw?" Someone pushes open the door to his office after knocking twice, and he barely sits up before there's a face peeking around the door. "You called IT?"

"I did? Um, yeah, I did," Daniel mutters, and he rubs his eyes briefly before looking up at the IT guy. The tall, curly-haired IT guy who looks really weirdly familiar... then the man blushes, and he gets it. "You're the guy from this morning!"

"_You're_ Daniel Shaw? Oh my god, of course I dumped my mocha on the 'sons' in 'Shaw and Sons'," he says despairingly. "I did apologize, right?"

"Several times. And I believe I told you it was all right," Daniel says, amused despite himself at the man's panic. It's not nice to be entertained by other people's freakouts, and yet this guy is kind of hilarious anyway. "You haven't been working here long, have you?"

"This is my second week. Please don't fire me."

"I'm not going to fire you! Jesus, what kind of rumors are people spreading about me?"

"No rumors, just, some people would fire the klutz that wrecked their morning. You're really not pissed?"

"Really. If it had been hot coffee I wouldn't be so nice about it, but it's not a big deal." Daniel runs a hand through his hair, fights back a yawn, and reaches for the memory of the one glance he'd spared the guy's business card. "You're Charles, right?"

"Chuck, actually. Well, I mean, yes, Charles Bartowski, but nobody calls me that, unless they're about to fire me." Chuck bites his lip and then smiles. "But you said you wouldn't, so Chuck is fine."

"Okay then, Chuck." Daniel can't help returning the smile as he stands up. "Please do something about this computer. It locks up every time I try to open a PDF, I've had to restart it three times just today."

"Adobe problems, gotcha. I can fix that." Sliding into Daniel's chair, Chuck pulls the keyboard closer and starts working magic of a kind Daniel can't process. He's far from stupid, but computers never work the way they should for him. He knew that Chuck was new because he's seen every IT person in the company at some point or another. It said something about someone's luck that they'd ended up in the same room twice today; Daniel's not sure whose luck, or whether it's bad or good, but he doesn't believe in coincidences.

"So how do you like working here so far?" Daniel asks after a moment of failing not to hover behind Chuck. Chuck glances up, wide-eyed, and smiles again.

"I used to work for the Nerd Herd. It's nice dealing with one company's problems and not the entire city's." He clicks a few times and then pushes away from the desk. "It's reinstalling now, and if that doesn't fix it I have a couple of other things to try, but I think that should do it."

"You should probably stay and make sure... computers have a way of failing catastrophically when they're left alone with me." Chuck arches an eyebrow, and Daniel elaborates, "I'm the only person in this building who's actually had a laptop catch fire while in use."

"Really? That's kind of incredi-- wait, was it a Toshiba? Because I've heard of that happening with Toshibas."

"Nope, a Dell."

"Well, in that case, I'm impressed. You didn't actually have it in your lap when it happened, did you?"

"I scorched a perfectly good pair of khakis. It was a traumatic experience," Daniel says, and Chuck bites his lips to keep from laughing.

"It sounds like the kind of thing that could scare a man away from technology entirely."

"I didn't trust my Blackberry for weeks. I halfway expected it to explode."

"What did you do to anger the gods of electronics? Blaspheme the name of Intel?" The computer makes a noise, diverting Chuck's attention back to the screen. "Okay, let's give this a shot..." He double-clicks, pauses hopefully, and then swirls the mouse around. "...and it's frozen. Really, computer? This is how you want to play it?"

"Do you usually talk to computers?" Daniel asks. Chuck nods.

"They respond well to threats. Once I fixed a computer by glaring at it and threatening it with a powerful magnet." He turns the computer off and then on again, drumming his fingers on the desk as it boots up.

"You didn't."

"Okay, and I had to run an antivirus program, but I really think it was the threat that made it work again. I'm telling you, you just have to know how to talk to them."

"Next time I'll be sure to threaten it before I call IT," Daniel says, and stifles a yawn behind one hand. "I'll be right back, okay?" He snags his coffee mug from the edge of his desk and leaves Chuck verbally abusing his computer. Someone made a new pot of coffee, and he thinks it's supposed to be French vanilla, but the smell doesn't match the taste, which is slightly less terrible than the last pot, but it's still pretty bad.

When he gets back to his office, he stands in the doorway for a minute, watching Chuck pat the monitor and croon something suspiciously sympathetic-sounding. Chuck looks up sharply and flushes when he sees Daniel. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to see you sweet-talking my computer. What happened to threats?"

"This poor machine has taken enough abuse. When's the last time someone's done routine maintenance on it? I'm going to guess it's been a couple of years."

"Routine? There's been a lot of emergency fixes... what, is there something I'm supposed to do regularly for it?"

"Oh, sweetheart." Daniel arches an eyebrow, but Chuck is petting the computer tower like a skittish cat. "I won't let the mean man touch you until you're all fixed, I promise."

"I'm not going to get anything else done this afternoon, am I?" Daniel asks. Chuck looks thoughtful for a moment, then shrugs.

"You can always learn how to take care of your computer," he offers, "I swear it's actually really simple. Well, once I fix the major problems, it should be easy to keep it working from there."

"You can try to teach me, but I can almost guarantee that you'll be back in here inside of a week."

"I'm sure I will be," Chuck says with a little smile. "I feel like it's my duty to at least make the attempt."

"Okay. Bring it on," Daniel says, leaning one hip against the desk and holding his mug between both hands. The next fifteen minutes are full of things that Chuck says nobody who owns a computer shouldn't know how to do, interspersed with comments like "Wow, I haven't seen this virus since 2006," and "Are you _sure_ you've never downloaded Limewire on here?" and "Do you look at a lot of porn on this computer? Be honest, I'm just trying to figure out how you got this many different worms on one machine."

"The last person who asked me that question took the computer with him when he left me, and he didn't believe me when I told him the truth." Daniel says dryly. "No, no I do not look at porn at work, I am never that bored here."

"Right, you're a busy man. Hey, I had to ask. If more people would confess to that particular sin right off the bat, my job would be so much easier," Chuck says. Daniel catches him checking his browser history a few minutes after that, but he was telling the truth-- most of the sites he goes to are news sites or legal blogs, not exactly places that are traditionally virus-laden. "Do you open a lot of email forwards?"

"I delete them. I can't get my mother to stop sending them to me, but I don't read them."

"Okay, good." Chuck looks from the screen to Daniel, clearly puzzled. "I have no idea how your computer has collected so many issues, unless there's something I'm missing here."

"I don't think you've taken into account the fact that technology hates me."

"It doesn't hate you. You just need a facilitator. I'm sure you and technology can comfortably coexist eventually. It might take a while, but I won't give up on turning you into a proper computer user," Chuck says. "Every time you call me up here, I'm going to improve your relationship with your poor PC. One day you'll both be happy and well adjusted when you have to work together."

"You're very optimistic," Daniel says, and Chuck nods.

"You get more done with a positive outlook. I never go into something expecting it to go badly, that's just asking for trouble."

"Sometimes trouble finds you anyways," Daniel points out, "like this morning?"

"Well, you had a pretty positive attitude about it. And I really will replace that shirt if you let me."

"That's not necessary. If you can teach me how not to crash my computer on a daily basis, I'll call it even."

"Deal." Chuck unfolds himself from Daniel's chair and waves at it. "Sit. I'll tell you what to do. You'll learn faster that way." He leans on the back of the chair, his knuckles barely brushing Daniel's shoulders, and Daniel doesn't have time to wonder about the contact when the directions start coming at a rapid-fire pace.

By the time Daniel actually registers the time on the the computer's clock, it's closer to five than four, and he's fairly confident in his ability to clear his browser's cache and delete temporary files. "I think the first lesson was a success," he says, turning around. Chuck nods, smiling.

"Next time, I'm going to teach you about the importance of antivirus software. Then it might be a couple of days before you need IT again."

"Yeah, we'll see how that actually plays out." Daniel stands up, noticing for the first time that they're of a height. He's so used to being the tallest person in the room that it's a surprise to look right into Chuck's eyes. "It was good to actually meet you and not just collide with you."

Chuck offers his hand, and his grip is firm when they shake. "If I promise not to spill it on you, will you at least let me buy you coffee?" The moment stretches out: Daniel doesn't try to let go, and Chuck doesn't free him. Usually he manages to keep his distance from anyone who tries to flirt with him; somehow Chuck's slipped past his defenses already with nothing more complicated than a handshake, and he realizes that he doesn't mind.

"I think that sounds all right," he says, and this time when Chuck smiles it's something radiant that lights up his entire face.

"Okay. Good. Tomorrow morning? Same bat time, same bat channel?"

"I'll be there. Be careful turning around."

"Oh no, I'm definitely not picking up my coffee until you're clear from the splash zone," Chuck jokes, and he squeezes Daniel's hand once before turning away. "See you tomorrow," he calls from the doorway, waving before he pulls the door shut behind him.

Daniel looks down at his hand, then stretches his fingers out and wiggles them. They feel tingly, warm, and it's got to be psychosomatic, he's simply not used to being touched by anyone for that long, that's all. Handshakes are perfunctory things, and that was more than just a handshake, he's certain of it.

The tingly feeling lasts all the way home. "I should probably not have such a good feeling about this," he confides to Hecate, his iguana, as he changes the food in her dish. The iguana blinks lazily at him, as if to say _why not?_, and it's not like he doesn't talk to her all the time anyway. "I'm probably reading into it too much. Maybe he's just really friendly to everyone. Maybe it's just been too long since anyone's shown any interest in me so I'm making a big deal out of nothing." Hecate doesn't look like she believes him. Daniel's pretty sure he doesn't believe himself either. He's distracted all night with sense memory, as if he can still feel Chuck leaning over his shoulder.

Part of true dreaming is being able to tell the reality of a dream from a waking state. Daniel knows that the hands caressing his body are just a dream-- but they will be real, eventually. One day he's really going to have his lips learning the angles of another person's stubbled jawline, his fingers feeling the flutter of a rapid pulse in someone's long throat, his legs tangled together with someone else's. He can't tell when it'll happen, but it will happen. He's going to tremble with need when someone gasps his name out like a plea, and a hand is going to dig into his hair and tug him back, and he's going to look down at Chuck Bartowski and kiss the begging right out of those full lips.

He wakes up feeling startled and horny and vaguely scandalized. It's been an embarrassingly long time since he's been intimate with anyone, and he's _never_ dreamed about it before the fact. The clock by his head reads 3:51. At least it's not a nightmare, he figures, it's probably the nicest dream he's had in months to be honest, and he wouldn't mind knowing what happens next. Once sleep claims him again, he doesn't dream anything, and that's a nice change too.

It's not a problem until he walks into the coffee shop and the first thing he thinks upon catching sight of Chuck is _I'm going to kiss that man eventually._ The thought flusters him so much that he hesitates, stopping in the doorway, until the smile on Chuck's face is replaced by a look of confusion and someone behind him says "Move it!" He shakes his head and walks in, trying to clear that thought and failing spectacularly.

"Daniel, are you okay?" Chuck asks. "You look like you saw a ghost."

Not a ghost. More like the ghost of an idea. Because the last time Daniel thought about kissing someone in the long-term future, he was 14 and thinking about his soulmate. "No, I'm fine," he answers after a moment. Chuck doesn't look convinced. "Just... a weird sort of deja vu."

"Oh. Isn't deja vu weird enough without any qualifiers?"

"Well, there's glitch-in-the-Matrix weird, and there's average-weird, and then there's what just happened. Levels of weirdness."

"I get it. Well, it can't be deja vu of yesterday. Maybe you're having premonitions of this becoming a regular thing," Chuck says, and seriously, is Daniel a completely open book or is Chuck just making an eerily accurate joke? Daniel fights back his disconcerted feeling and smiles at Chuck, finally.

"I do come here most mornings. That could be it."

"Visions of the future. Spooky," Chuck says, "except that's a future I can get behind." The barista clears her throat, looking impatient, and they both order-- Daniel his usual hazelnut, and Chuck the advertised frou-frou drink of the day, dark cherry mocha.

"I'm glad you didn't order that yesterday."

"Believe me, so am I. Usually I do get hot drinks, I was just weirdly in the mood for something iced, and a good thing I went with the feeling, right?" Chuck reaches up and straightens out Daniel's tie with a light touch. "Don't worry, your wardrobe is now safe from me."

That tingly feeling comes back, even with three layers of cloth between Chuck's fingers and Daniel's chest. Daniel goes very still, and Chuck gives him a look that dares him to say stop. That's the last thing Daniel wants to happen, though. For a moment they simply watch each other, waiting for something, some sign or signal that says this is okay. What they get is the barista whistling to pull their attention off each other and onto their coffee. The girl rolls her eyes, and Daniel flushes slightly-- what did she think she just saw? Chuck seems equally flustered as he hands Daniel the larger cup-- carefully-- and claims his own drink.

"Are the baristas here always rude?" Chuck asks as they walk away from the counter. Daniel shakes his head, and Chuck mutters something about intolerance as he lifts his coffee to his lips. Daniel's relieved to hear it-- it means that he isn't blowing this out of proportion, Chuck really is flirting with him. Good. "You know, anybody who can make a drink this good, I'm tempted to forgive for their rudeness," Chuck says as they exit the cafe.

"You're incredibly good-natured, aren't you?" Chuck smiles at the question, ducking his head a little.

"My sister says I have a sunny disposition. I just call it 'being nice.'"

"Either way, you're a rarity." They pause by Daniel's car, and Daniel looks around. "Where'd you park?"

"I didn't. I live around the corner. It's nice being within walking distance of a steady source of caffeine," Chuck says, "feeding into the socially acceptable addiction endemic to geeks. No smoking, hardly ever drink, can't function without coffee."

"You'd never make it as a Mormon," Daniel says. "Let me give you a ride to work. I have to come back this way when I head home anyway." For a moment Chuck just looks at Daniel, a question in his eyes that he never voices, and then he nods.

"Okay." Daniel tosses his briefcase in the backseat, watching as Chuck pushes the seat all the way back to accomodate long legs, and they spend the short drive to the office talking about baseball-- Daniel's a born Red Sox fan, while Chuck has transplanted his love of the Angels from his native California to Massachusetts, a move he made for the fiancee who then broke it off with him. "I decided I liked Boston better than I liked her anyway," Chuck says as they pull into the parking garage, "and you know, I'm pretty happy here. Here on the East Coast, not here as in the firm. Although I do like my job a lot!"

"As long as you're staying for the right reasons," Daniel says, and Chuck aims that weirdly pensive look at him again before smiling.

"Yeah, I think I've got my life pretty much on track. My sister would be so disappointed in me if I moved back to California so soon, too." He shakes his head. "The last thing I need is Ellie's disapproval on top of running back to the West Coast with my tail between my legs."

"If you can deal with the weather, New England is a pretty easy place to live," Daniel says. "Which you've probably already found yourself tested with, this winter."

"Snow was a new and interesting experience," Chuck agrees, "and as long as I don't have to drive in it, I don't mind it." He reaches for the door almost reluctantly, saying, "Thanks for the ride."

"No problem. Stop by my office before 5 and I'll get you home." Daniel has to reach into the back for his briefcase, and he spends a long moment just watching Chuck walk away after he grabs it. Everything he learns about the other man just makes him want to know more. He knows his own mind well enough to realize that he's well on the way to becoming smitten, if he's not already there, and... honestly, it's kind of nice. Nice to be interested in someone and nice to be fairly certain that the interest is returned.

That afternoon, Eric Shaw pulls his son aside after a meeting. "What's gotten into you?" he asks, "I haven't seen you this apt to smile in years." All Daniel can do is grin wider.

"Don't worry about me, Dad. I met someone..." Eric arches his eyebrows, and Daniel laughs. "No, really, I'm just happy. I'm not on drugs or anything."

"Well, get a grip on yourself. People don't trust lawyers who smile too much," Eric jokes, and squeezes Daniel's shoulder. In all honesty, he and Daniel's mother Jennifer had almost given up on their son finding love; after Bryce's death, they'd been afraid that losing the chance at his soulmate would keep Daniel from reaching out to anyone at all, and Daniel's few and short-lived relationships seemed to bear that fear out. There's a light in Daniel's eyes now that had been missing for far too long. Eric can't wait to tell Jennifer that their only child may have found happiness after all, perhaps a little presumptively, but any hope is good hope.

Daniel simply thinks his father's being weird, which is not unusual for Eric Shaw, really. Still, it's just one more thing to smile about. When Chuck knocks on the door of Daniel's office at 4:55, he finds his own sunny grin almost matched by Daniel's smile. "You look like you had a good day," Chuck observes, and Daniel nods. "No computer troubles, either. Looks like a little bit of that lesson sank in."

"Now that my computer knows it has someone watching out for it, it's on better behavior," Daniel says, not missing the way Chuck's gaze lingers on him. In the car he comes within a breath of asking Chuck out for dinner, but figures he shouldn't push his luck too far in one day.

The next morning Daniel skips the coffee shop and heads right to work, feeling energized enough to forego the java, and also not wanting to look like he's stalking Chuck or anything weird like that. Around noon, Daniel's computer crashes for the first time since Chuck's fixed it. When he calls down to IT, Chuck's the one who answers, and he's in Daniel's office inside of five minutes, cheerful and not entirely professional as he leans over Daniel's shoulder to take control of the mouse. Daniel gets the promised lesson on antivirus programs delivered in a warm voice just behind one ear.

Before Chuck can leave, Daniel catches his wrist. "Hey, do you maybe want to catch a movie after work?"

"Sure. Did you have one in mind?" Daniel shakes his head-- the question had been impromptu, he doesn't have any idea what's in theaters now. "Well, we can figure it out when we get there," Chuck says easily.

They end up seeing a spy thriller, something that screams 'Matt Damon' without actually having the actor in it. The whole length of the movie, Chuck keeps leaning in, murmuring commentary on the action. He's too funny to be annoying, and honestly his wry observations make an average movie into an enjoyable experience. It doesn't hurt when, halfway through, Daniel takes Chuck's hand and they interlace their fingers; they don't release each other until the credits start rolling and the theater lights come up.

Coffee is just an excuse to invite Chuck up to Daniel's apartment. They both know that, and the knowledge weighs the air between them as they sit on the couch. The conversation is effortless, but also meaningless, simply a reason to spend more time with each other. Chuck tries to keep his gaze level, but he keeps glancing down at Daniel's lips, which purse with amusement. "I know what you're thinking," Daniel says, and Chuck shakes his head.

"You might think you do but I'm pretty sure you don't."

"So you're not thinking about kissing me?"

"That was the beginning of the thought. It's gone way past that point now." Whatever Chuck sees in Daniel's reaction must be encouraging, because he brings a hand up to cup Daniel's cheek. "And you seem okay with that."

"I'd be even more okay with it if you did something instead of just thinking about it." Chuck's lips curve upward, and he's still smiling when he leans in and kisses Daniel, a warm lingering press of lips that stays almost laughably innocent. After a moment Daniel slides a hand into Chuck's hair and angles his head slightly, fitting their mouths together that much better; he coaxes Chuck's mouth open with a few deft licks, and suddenly the kiss goes from practically chaste to wonderfully intimate, a little bit frantic and a whole lot dirtier as their tongues slide together. "Don't get shy now," Daniel breathes when they break apart.

"Shy? God, no, I'm not shy, I just-- I didn't want to be too aggressive or anything, I figured nothing wrong with, you know, gradually working up to more, uh--"

"Oh, you want to go slower? Okay, we can do that," Daniel says, and presses a series of teasing little kisses to Chuck's half-open mouth while Chuck is still trying to find the words for what he was saying. He tries to catch Daniel for a longer kiss, and finally resorts to holding Daniel still between both hands so he can return the kiss properly, making the point he couldn't phrase with words much more eloquently with the careful application of teeth to Daniel's lower lip.

"Let's not go slower," he suggests, and Daniel hums an agreement as he rakes his fingers through Chuck's curls and claims his mouth once again. The space between them diminishes until they're pressed together, hip to hip, and then Chuck pulls back suddenly, dark eyes gone wide. Daniel blinks at him, but before he can pose any question Chuck moves, straddling Daniel's lap and pressing him into the back of the couch. "Sorry, I had to--"

"God, don't _apologize_." It takes a moment of shifting for them both to get comfortable, but then everything clicks: the way Daniel's hands curve around Chuck's waist, how Chuck's lips trace the shell of Daniel's ear, the angles of their hips that allow hardness to press against answering hardness, the almost simultaneous gasp _that_ brings. "Let me," he says, pulling Chuck's shirt free of his pants, slipping his fingertips under to find warm skin and a rough line of hair under his navel.

"Yeah." The agreement is a sigh, and Chuck's hands go to Daniel's tie, loosening it and working on the buttons underneath. They start at opposite ends but each ends up getting the other's shirt unbuttoned in the same amount of time; shirts get tossed on the floor and undershirts follow in short order. Daniel leans in to lick at Chuck's nipples, drags his teeth over one of them and savors the shivery moan that escapes Chuck. He's just as vocal without using words, something Daniel really appreciates, and he does his best to get Chuck to gasp and cry out.

Chuck winds a hand into Daniel's hair and pulls a little too hard, until Daniel looks up at him with his mouth half-open and Chuck kisses him hungrily. It's only too easy to get lost in the heat of those kisses, too easy to lose track of where his hands should be, until he's breathless and dizzy in the best way with Chuck's fingertips inching under his belt and he has to catch those hands before they go any further.

"What," Chuck says when Daniel stops him, "too fast?"

"Not at all. Just gotta lose my shoes," Daniel says, and Chuck brightens even as he slides off Daniel's lap. It's easy for Daniel to toe off his shoes; Chuck needs to put a little more attention into unlacing his sneakers before he can kick them off to the side, and then he turns the same amount of focus to unbuckling Daniel's belt.

"Stand up." Chuck's voice is rough and his hands are gentle, both encouraging Daniel to do the same thing. Obeying is swiftly rewarded: Chuck leans in and nuzzles Daniel's cock through his pants, and laughs when it twitches against his cheek. "Okay, hi."

"Please tell me you're not planning on having a conversation with my dick." Daniel thinks it's perfectly understandable if he sounds a little shaky-- after all, he's seen this guy sweet-talk computers, he wouldn't put it past him to keep that gorgeous mouth occupied in entirely the wrong way.

"How weird do you think I am, exactly?" Chuck asks, looking up at Daniel with brown eyes blown dark with need. "Because: not that weird." As if he needs to prove that point, he starts to ease Daniel's pants down, peeling the waist of his boxer-briefs away from his skin and meeting the first glimpse of Daniel's erection with a long swipe of his tongue.

"I wouldn't say weird," Daniel says, completely failing to keep his voice even. He runs his fingers through Chuck's hair and adds, "I'd say endearingly quirky, maybe."

"I'd say 'I'll show you quirky' but then you'd probably expect something really kinky to happen." Once he gets Daniel's pants below his knees, they puddle to the floor without any further help, and Chuck wraps a hand around Daniel's cock and strokes a couple of times. "And I'm really not actually very kinky at all. Open to experience but lacking in same, rather."

"Duly noted." Daniel watches through half-closed eyes as Chuck takes him into his mouth, breath catching in his throat at a curious twist of tongue around the head. For a minute or two Chuck tastes him, lapping at his skin and pressing his thumbs into the points of Daniel's hips. When he pulls back, he looks up, cheeks flushed and lips parted, and pushes Daniel away. Daniel takes an unsteady step back, and Chuck stands up from the couch in the little space he has, leaning in to press a light kiss against Daniel's mouth.

"I'm kind of impatient," Chuck explains, "and I really need to touch you as much as possible right now." His hands span Daniel's chest, flicking at his nipples experimentally and then doing it again when Daniel groans. Daniel's impatient too, in a different way; he undoes Chuck's pants and reaches in, palming the solid heat of his cock for a moment before pushing away the fabric. Once they're both naked, they glance at the couch-- which is all right for making out, but is far too small to allow anything more serious than that between two men who both top six feet tall-- and then Daniel pulls Chuck down to the floor, halfway on top of their scattered clothing.

There's a moment of indecision, but it passes when Chuck presses Daniel back into the carpet and stretches his slim, lanky body out atop Daniel's. He moves like a man who knows what he wants, settling between Daniel's legs and tracing a line of kisses up the side of his neck. All the caution and hesitance from before is gone now; Chuck runs one hand down the back of Daniel's thigh and draws his leg up, shifting until their cocks rub together in perfect friction.

Daniel's almost embarrassingly close already. It's been way too long since there's been another body in contact with his own, let alone as nice a body as Chuck's, and it's all he can do to bite his lip and hang on to Chuck with both hands splayed out over the curve of Chuck's narrow behind. When Chuck bites Daniel's shoulder, his fingers clench spasmodically, and Chuck groans into his skin before lifting his head. His eyes are wide when they meet Daniel's, his mouth half-open on a roughly indrawn breath, he looks wild and needy and incredibly hot.

"Harder," Chuck gasps, and Daniel's fingers dig into the muscle of his ass, hauling him that much closer as they grind together. "Fuck, yes, just like that!" He braces his hands on Daniel's shoulders and bucks his hips once, twice, and he's coming in messy stripes across Daniel's smooth stomach. The look on his face is just this side of pained, oddly beautiful. Daniel reaches between them, stroking their cocks together, coaxing the last shudders of pleasure out of Chuck and giving himself that last push of sensation he needs to follow suit; he comes with Chuck's name on his lips and the heat of Chuck's come slicking his grip.

Shivering a bit, Chuck leans up and kisses Daniel gently, smiling into the corner of his mouth. "Next time let's try to make it to the bedroom," Daniel says, rubbing his clean hand along Chuck's back.

"You're the one who pulled me onto the floor," Chuck says, halfway laughing. He shifts off of Daniel and sits up, stretching until his back describes a perfect curve. "I don't think I've ever had sex on a floor before."

"That makes two of us." Daniel can't take his eyes off Chuck for a moment, hooked on all that pale skin on display. He can't stop touching, either, this time playing his fingertips up the inside of Chuck's leg, making him twitch ticklishly. "I think it was pretty successful."

"Oh, yeah, no doubt about that." After a second of trying to get away, Chuck gives up and moves back closer instead, catching Daniel's teasing hand between his own. "So you said something about a bedroom?" he asks hopefully, and Daniel grins.

"I did. Would you like to see it?"

"You know, I think I would." Chuck rises to his feet and pulls Daniel up after him, leaning in to steal another kiss before Daniel leads him through the not-all-that-large apartment. After a moment's diversion into the bathroom to grab a wet washcloth and wipe their skin clean, Daniel gestures Chuck into the bedroom with a flourish. "Ooh, that is a really big bed."

"Yeah, even for someone who sprawls out when they sleep it's a little bit excessive for one person," Daniel says, "and it's been excessive for a while now."

"Well, if you don't mind me taking up some space, maybe it'll be reasonable for two people," Chuck says, hope clear in his eyes. Daniel grins.

"That sounds ideal. I mean, I don't want to move this too fast or anything, I just..." Chuck looks at him curiously, and Daniel reaches for him with both hands, pulling him close into an embrace. "I just feel really comfortable with you. And as long as you want to stick around, I want you to be around." It's weird, feeling so much for someone with no real guarantee that what they have will last. This is how normal people fall in love, and it's a little bit scary, a little overwhelming... a little bit exhilarating. He pauses, then adds, "also, I've been told I make excellent waffles."

"Waffles are a perk," Chuck says, and he takes a couple of steps backwards, pulling Daniel over to the bed. "And I don't want to go any time soon."

"Great, because I really don't want to let you go." Daniel gives him a little push and Chuck flops back onto the bed, grinning up at Daniel brightly. When Daniel stretches out next to him and nuzzles Chuck's neck, he gets the shivery sensation that he's been here before-- the dream he had is being realized with his hands on Chuck's skin, the fingers that Chuck buries into his hair, the way that Chuck arches beneath him.

"Daniel," Chuck breathes, pulling him away, and Daniel can't help grinning when he does what he's destined to do, and kisses the words right out of Chuck's mouth.


End file.
